Here’s a nor’easter. High winds. Flooding. Just the kind of weather you’d expect not to want to drive in. But here we are, entering the
We know Jon-Boy didn’t do the former. He’s there in the front of his SUV, runs into a guard rail, gets thrown to the back seat. He’s semi-comatose. Sorta like Sharon, but Sharon had a stroke, which you can’t control.
Big Jon’s about 300 pounds, maybe 6”1 or 2. And he’s the governor. Who’s going to tell him to put on the belt. He never does, anyway.
So Jon gets knocked to the back seat of the SUV, and he’s now in the hospital with all these wires and intravenous tubes going into his arms, and he’s dazed and doesn’t know who the hell he is, let alone WHERE he is and why he’s there.
And everyone in
Now, comes a nor’easter. A monster storm. And here we all are heading into
And you can’t see twenty feet in front of you. Yikes!
After all, if the seatbelt law doesn’t apply to Jon Babes, why should the lights-on-in-a storm law apply to THEM?!
Perish the thought!
But when we creped into 56th, there was the guy in the middle of the road, stranded. Apparently, German engineering doesn’t work in
I'm Wes Richards, my opinions are my own, but you're welcome to them.
(c) 2007 WJR